Anywhere's Better Than Taris
by Shannon Vega
Summary: The Smuggler and Corso deal with the aftermath of Taris.  Fem Smuggler/Corso.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.

Author's Note: For character development and inspiration, Taris rocked. But it was not a fun planet. It was sheer hell on so many levels that I couldn't wait to get off that rock. I especially wanted to explore some of Corso's reactions to the things that the smuggler was asked to do in the quests. Especially given some of the scenes that those two went through on the ship—more precisely Corso's suggestion that he wanted to take care of the Smuggler. So, here goes. This may be part of a new series so if you want me to keep going, feedback will certainly help.

Spoilers: Up to Taris.

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**Chapter One**

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Corso leaned back against the bulkhead of the ship's bridge, watching as his Captain guided her ship through deep space. He still knew almost nothing of the curvy, pint-sized woman. Other than that she had a soft spot for kids and aliens and didn't like it when anyone was taken advantage. For a smuggler, she was certainly a rare bird, he thought.

But how had she gotten that lone diagonal scar on her cheek? She never talked about it—never called herself pretty or beautiful, now that he thought about it. She treated her life like it was expendable, willingly charging into the dangerous unknown with a glitter in those emerald green eyes.

"Corso," came the soft voice of his Captain. She was watching him from the pilot's seat, ruby lips pursed in worry. "A credit for your thoughts?"

Corso shrugged, scratching at the side of his neck as he shifted in his armor. He really should strip out of his gear and catch the fresher before hitting the sack. The extended stay on Taris had worn on both of them—and not for the better. One could only see so much death and violence before you shut down. It hadn't made it any easier that they had stayed long past their original mission at the behest of the governor.

He now knew more about burning toxic chemicals, force-sensitive monstrous beasts, and his own captain's suicidal tendencies than he cared to. He had nearly dumped her over his shoulder and carried her back to the ship when she'd started considering allowing herself to be infected by the monsters on Taris so that the Republic could make a vaccine. But he'd stayed silent, jaw working as he'd gripped his gunbelt and heard her agree to the crazy plan. The only part she balked at? She'd have to get bit up by the beasts instead of getting a shot from an injector.

Un-fuckin'-believable.

"I'm here, Captain. Just tired."

She nodded knowingly and punched in a series of codes on the navigation panel. "The droid can monitor navigation. I think it's time that we both hit the sack, Corso." She stood carefully, weaving slightly.

"Damn," growled Corso, grabbing for her arm to steady her. "You're still not well, Captain. We should have let that medical droid on Taris keep takin' care of you."

A throaty chuckle was her answer as she shook her head. "I couldn't be on that planet a moment longer, Corso. If there's a hell, that place is a pretty close contender." She sucked in a breath, wincing as the synthskin pulled on the clawmarks from Taris. "I just wanted to be back on my ship and safe."

Corso nodded, helping the Captain down the corridor from the bridge to her stateroom. Neither of them rehashed the stories of Taris that would, perhaps, one day be told to others. Right now the wounds were, literally, too fresh. Reaching her door, he watched her step through and sit on the end of her bed. When she made no move to do anything else he swallowed and tapped on the doorframe.

A startled look came into the Captain's eyes as she looked up. "Sorry, must have zoned out, Corso." She sighed and reached down to the buckles on her boots. Her fingers moved sluggishly as she fumbled with the leather and metal. "Oh, well, not the first time I'll sleep in my boots," she muttered.

Corso shook his head, stepping into the cabin and crouching in front of the Captain. Her chignon of deep claret red had come loose in the past few hours and tendrils hung loose. Her eyes were hooded from exhaustion and her entire body looked on the verge of collapse. "Captain, let me help you," he offered.

The Captain drew a deep breath and nodded silently.

Corso reached down and lifted her first booted foot. His calloused fingers made quick work of the buckles that kept the knee-high boots tight against her calves and he slid the boots off, laying them beside the bed. Underneath were her socks—he'd gotten used to her odd habit of wearing mismatched socks. Today she was wearing one brilliant cerulean blue sock and a maize yellow sock. Tugging both off, he stuffed them into one of the boots.

Turning back, he was amused to find his Captain wiggling her toes on the carpet of her stateroom. "You still there, Captain?"

The Captain smiled, pointing to the carpet that was a match to the rest of the ship. "I had to pay extra for that carpet. But I didn't want to have to remember to wear my boots to go to to the bridge in an emergency." Rubbing her hands down her face, she smiled wanly at Corso. "Is this you taking care of me, farmboy?"

Corso offered a crooked smile. "I suppose." He surveyed the captain, hesitating. "You wanna sleep like this?" he asked, motioning to the fact that she was still in full kit other than her shoes and socks.

"Not really," came the disgusted response. "I might have to burn these clothes after Taris. Which is too bad, 'cause I really like this jacket." She tugged on the lapels of her jacket, a gift from the Gree for helping them fix the inner workings of Coruscant.

Corso chuckled. "Think that your droid'll figure out some solution, Captain. Don't think you'll have to give up that jacket." He helped her slide the jacket off her stiff, still-healing shoulders, and set it on the astronavigation table near her bed. "Think you'll sleep now?"

Brigitt glanced up, eyes even more tired than before. What was it his Mama had always said about exhaustion breeding honesty? "Don't know, Corso. Got used to bunking with you. Kinda kept the nightmares away." She laid back on top of the comforter, the fabric scrunching up beneath her as she scooted towards the headboard. "And got used to you stealing my blankets," she teased softy.

Corso blushed, scratching at the back of his neck. Downside or upside, depending on how you looked at it, of roughing it on a planet was that he and the Captain shared their quarters. "Well, now, Captain, you get your bed back all to yourself." His tight smile didn't fool either of them.

Brigitt nodded shortly, rolling onto her side, her body curling up tight into itself. "Right. You should go to sleep, Corso. You've earned some rack time." That was a dismissal if he'd ever heard one.

Corso's dark eyes narrowed as he watched his Captain pretend as if she were asleep. She wasn't fooling either of them, he knew. Stripping off his heavy armor so that he stood in just his pants and shirt, he crossed back to the wide bed, sitting down on the edge. He made short work of the buckles on his own boots and swung his legs onto the bed.

"What're you doing?" muttered Brigitt, her voice quiet.

Corso shrugged, laying down behind the woman. Slinging his arm around her waist and pressing against her back, just as he had each night on Taris in their tent, he let out a breath. "I'm taking care of you, Captain. Now go to sleep. I ain't going anywhere."

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**TBC?**

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone for your feedback! I wasn't expecting for anyone to actually want me to continue it and I apologize for taking so long to return to this story. I'll try to do better at continuing this...especially since I'm back to playing SWTOR and getting infusions of inspiration on a regular basis. So, enjoy and keep your comments coming.

**Chapter Two: A Toast to Viidu**

Corso leaned back in the pilot's chair, watching the stars streaming past the ship as they followed the course laid hours ago. The Captain was asleep, tucked up tight in their bunk, and Corso had assigned himself the midnight watch.

It seemed odd to him that only a few months ago he'd been working for Viidu. Back when he'd trusted Skavak. Everything changed when the curvy smuggler strolled down the ramp of her ship and into the spaceport on Ord Mantell. She'd carried her blaster like his Mama had carried his baby brother years ago and he'd fallen a little in love in that first moment.

Then Skavak had double-crossed them both, stealing Torchy and the Captain's ship, The Cipher. It had been a low blow for both of them. He still winced as he recalled his lame attempt to try and equate his blaster to her ship, but she'd understood.

Then she'd followed his instructions and run up the hill to Fort Garnik and into the bizarre world of Viidu and his lovely, if connivingly evil, mate Syreena. They'd feasted on Roba beef, drank Corellian whiskey, and tried to figure out a way to save themselves from Rogun the Butcher and the mechanations of Skavak.

He could still remember her agreeing to the Big Bomb Run. He remembered pressing Flashy into her hands, watched as she traced the blaster's lines and curves with her fingertips and fell more in love with her.

He'd finally had the chance to see her in action when they invaded that dormant volcano. He'd leapt onto the Separatists who shot at her, earning a stunned gasp from behind whenever he slammed himself into their enemies. Every time he turned back to her he'd known that he wouldn't be able to watch her walk away.

Then she'd stayed his hand, kept him from executing the Separatist scum who'd stood by the leader. She'd whispered to him, her hand on his arm, pointing the blaster rifle away from the cowering creature before them. She'd talked of his mother, what she would think of him if he shot that scum. She'd made him remember a life before blasters and vibroblades became the things that he cared most for.

And he'd fallen.

To be, hours later, on a shuttle with the Captain, headed towards Coruscant, the body of Viidu growing cold on the floor of his warehouse and Syreena in the wind, had been a strange turn of events but one that he couldn't have brought himself to regret even if he tried.

He tugged the cork from the Corellian red that he'd plucked from the galley. The vintage was pure Viidu—the balding man would have appreciated the bottle and its contents. A quick swallow later and Corso sighed.

"To you, Viidu. May you be smiling in the afterglow."

-tbc-


End file.
